


Missed Exit Training

by Alexandra926



Series: State Dinner [6]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Dad!Beck, Dad!Mark, Gen, Road Trips, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandra926/pseuds/Alexandra926
Summary: It wasn’t too terribly often that Mark Watney wished that he was back on Mars.  But this road trip was definitely having its moments.





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't too terribly often that Mark Watney wished that he was back on Mars.

But this road trip was definitely having its moments.

He and his wife had thought it sounded like such a great idea to show their young son some of the sights, by car. The little guy was eight now, and he'd grown up on an island smaller than Manhattan; Mark felt bad about that, a little bit, but on the other hand, life as an ex-pat suited him very well. He wasn't sure that he could ever see himself living in the U.S. again, as much as he loved it here; Roadtown was his home now.

Sophia's parents lived in Morgantown, and like Mark and Sophia, they had to be cautious about security. Mark didn't really envy them their family compound, with its high walls and armed agents, when he weighed it against the total freedom that they enjoyed at home. Even if it meant that his son's world had a few more limitations than his had, at the same age.

They tried to compensate for it, when they got the chance.

Like with this little road trip.

His first fatal error, he supposed, was telling his friend and Ares III crewmate, Chris Beck about their planned vacation.

Why, Chris and Beth hadn't been to the States in over a year! And little Val and Ana would love to spend some time with their Uncle Mark! Chris wanted to visit his sister, in New London and they'd all like to visit with the Lewises at the christening. "You guys should come along!" he'd impulsively invited them, very certain that they would refuse.

Nope. They'd packed up and joined them in Miami. Chris, Beth, and their two daughters. Plus Mark, Sophia, and their son. Mark had had to rent a bigger vehicle, to accommodate all of them. A huge, rover-sized affair that felt like it had a very comparable top speed, and would comfortably seat nine.

They were actually still within _easy view_ of Miami-Dade when Chris and Beth's younger daughter whined, for the first time, but certainly not the last, "Are we _there_ yet?"

They'd tried to work in a good mix of destinations that the kids would find interesting, without boring the adults to tears. They stayed the first night on Anastasia Island, and then drove down to Kennedy Space Center the next morning so that the adults could see their old stomping grounds.

These days, he and Chris worked for NASA only in administrative roles; it had been quite a long career, really. Nearly twenty years since he'd joined NASA, and over twelve years now since the Ares III crew had launched aboard the _Orion_ , from the nearby launch complex at Cape Canaveral, up to rendezvous with the now-retired _Hermes_. It was a different world that they lived in, now.

"Remember Missed Orbit Training?" Chris asked him, gesturing to the building where that exceptionally not-fun event had taken place.

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you," Mark smirked.

"I wonder what they use that facility for, now?" Beth asked, rhetorically. Mark, as they all knew, was now an occasional guest lecturer for off-world mission training, usually in that very same building.

"Missed Orbit Training?" asked Val. "What was that?"

Three former astronauts groaned, in unison.

"Nothing fun, kid," Mark chuckled. "Like a road trip, except the driver never stops, there's no bathrooms, no windows, no rest breaks, nothing to do, and you're not actually going anywhere."

Mark glanced in the rear-view, to be greeted by three blank stares.

"For three days straight." He grinned at the shocked look on their faces.

"No way!" chirped little Mark. "What did you do when you had to go to the potty?"

"We had to use a bag when we needed to take a sh-" He flinched as Sophia elbowed him. "Ow! When we needed to um, go."

"Gross!" Anya giggled, wrinkling her nose.

"Mom! Is that for real?" laughed Val. "Tell me!" she demanded.

Beth rolled her eyes. "Yep. Not a good weekend. I wanted to kill Daddy and Uncle Mark by the second day."

"Oh! You do not _even_ need to be talking, babe." Chris laughed. "You were the worst offender in the umm… _smell_ department."

Mark nodded emphatically, as the kids burst into laughter. "Oh, you don't know the half of it," he started, as Beth glared.

"Don't you dare," Beth stared daggers at him. "If I hear that story one more time, so help me…"

"What? You'll fart on us?" Mark teased, as the kids howled with laughter. "It's a scary prospect, I admit, but-"

Beth rolled her eyes, making the 'shush' motion with her hand.

"Well, _you_ talked so much in those three days," she replied, Chris chuckling and nodding emphatically at her, "that _all_ of us wanted to kill you, full stop. All those corny jokes, oh dear god!"

"Oh! Really!" Mark laughed, "I was just trying to lighten the mood. You know that's why the selection committee picked me. Comic relief." He smirked at them.

"Let's just say that it was a good thing that we didn't have any duct tape in the mock-up of the MAV, and leave it at that." quipped Chris.

* * *

Disney was their next stop, but about halfway through the first day of the three they had planned, Mark was recognized. They'd had to leave early.

Not wanting to spoil the trip for the kids, he'd obligingly hung back on the second day, and stayed at the hotel. Sophia, Chris, and Beth had taken the three kids on their own to a different Disney park, EPCOT this time.

This time, Chris and Beth were recognized. They'd all returned to the hotel by lunchtime. Extra security was summoned, but the hotel was soon swarming with reporters and photographers.

Sophia gamely decided to take the three children to Animal Kingdom on her own, on day three. She was the least recognizable of the group, and had spent the least amount of time in the public eye since her marriage.

Sure, it had taken a disguise and some creative hotel exit techniques, but she'd pulled it off. After a full day of chasing after three children on her own, though, in the humid Florida sunshine, she'd been left in such a frazzled and exhausted and annoyed state, that she'd barely spoken to anyone for the next couple of days, choosing instead to do most of her communication via side-eye until the memory, and the sunburn, had had a chance to fade a little bit.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okefenokee!" yelled little Mark as they passed another sign.

"It's just the name of the swamp."

"But it rhymes, Dad! Okefenokee! Okefenokee!"

"Yay. Give it a rest."

"It sounds funny!"

"So do you. Hush."

Little Mark nudged Anya, who quickly picked up his dropped flag.

"Okefenokee!"

A backseat chorus of "Okefenokee!" ensued, as Mark stared stonily ahead at the highway.

* * *

 

"I have to go to the bathroom." Val announced.

Chris sighed, from the driver's seat.

"We stopped half an hour ago, squirt. Why didn't you say something then?"

"Because I didn't have to _go_ , then." Val rolled her eyes.

"There's nowhere for miles," announced Beth. You're going to have to hold it for about twenty minutes," she added, checking the map.

Val huffed.

"I have to go to the bathroom, too," chimed Ana.

"Now, that's just silly," scolded Chris. "I know you went, thirty minutes ago, because I took you myself."

"But I have to go again."

"Not medically possible, unless you have a bladder the size of a thimble. You can hold it for twenty minutes, same as Val." Chris rolled his eyes.

"But Daaaaaddy!" Ana pleaded.

"Twenty minutes." Chris repeated, evenly.

"I don't have to pee," she piped up again from the backseat. "I have to…" she trailed off. "Uh-oh."

"Shit." Mark stage-whispered.

* * *

 

A very stinky twenty-minute drive, one clean-up job, and a change of clothes later, they were back on the road, headed North towards Valdosta.

"Dad?"

"Yea?" answered Mark.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

Four adults sighed, in near-perfect unison.

"NASA had the right idea with those astronaut diapers," muttered Chris.

"Shut it, Beck." replied Mark, as little Mark giggled.

A brief silence, and then he asked, "Did you really wear astronaut diapers, Dad?"

Mark did not reply, glancing skywards.

"Did you? Really?" Val asked. "Mom? Tell us!" she ordered, when Chris didn't answer, either.

Beth sighed. It was her least favorite topic of discussion, when it came to the old NASA space program. They were all quite tired of discussing it, frankly.

"Yes. For emergencies."

Ana and little Mark burst into laughter.

"Diapers! For grownups!" crowed Valya. "Dad, did you ever wet your space diaper?"

"No," answered Beck, shortly. "It was just for an emergency."

"Mommy probably farted in hers." Anya giggled.

Mark smirked. He started to open his mouth, saw Beth's face, and just as quickly decided not to.

* * *

 

"I'm bored," whined Valya. "There's nothing to do!"

"Read something," Beth suggested, dryly.

"I'm tired of reading. And it makes me feel carsick, anyway."

"Take a nap, then."

"I'm not sleepy. And it's the middle of the day."

Mark chuckled. "Seems like that gene must have skipped a generation."

"Oh, can it, Potato Head," replied Beth.

"Whatever, Hackathon." Mark grinned.

"You two are worse than the kids," observed Chris. "Pipe down."

Beth and Mark looked at one another, and then said, in unison,

"Bossy Beck!"

* * *

 

"I want grilled cheese," repeated Ana.

"And for the third time, they do not _have_ that here, replied Beth, with a minimal veneer of patience remaining. "Order something else."

"But I don't like anything else."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to make do. Pick something."

"Ice cream." Ana replied, with an angelic smile.

"How about the fruit plate," said Beth, as though Ana had not spoken.

"Okay. With French fries." Ana added, turning to stick her tongue out at Uncle Mark.

* * *

 

"Ugh, Soph. That is so gross. I can't even watch." Mark closed his eyes, covering them dramatically and shuddering, as Sophia dipped french fries into her ice cream, over dessert.

"Mmm." She smirked at him. "Hush. Nobody invited the Anti-Potato Crusade League to dinner tonight."

"Is that good, Mom?" Their son looked fascinated; French fries being something of a rarity in the Watney household.

"No. It's gross," replied Mark, quickly. Sophia rolled her eyes.

"Want to try it?" Sophia offered little Mark a fry.

He dipped it into the ice cream and took an experimental nibble.

His parents waited expectantly.

"Well?" Sophia asked.

His nose wrinkled, finally.

"Sorry, Mom. Dad's right. That's kinda gross."

Mark laughed triumphantly. He offered little Mark a fist bump.

Sophia dunked another french fry in ice cream, defiantly, as Mark ruffled their son's mop of reddish-blond curls.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yea?" Mark grinned down at his son, fondly .

"How do you know you don't like it, if you've never tried it, yourself?"

Mark's smile disappeared.

"I mean, I was willing to try it," he continued, slyly, with a half-smirk. "I didn't really like it. But I tried it, at least. So maybe you ought to try it, before you say it's gross."

Sophia gave little Mark a high-five.

"Not in this lifetime or the next." Mark replied smoothly, as Beth and Chris snickered.

"Oh well," his son said, sadly. "I guess Dad is just a picky eater. That's what Oaiea told me. Ian, too. Guess they were right."

"Oh really?" Mark laughed. Obvious ploy is obvious, he thought. "I don't get any credit at all? I ate nothing but potatoes for months, and then nothing but amino acid fuel by-product for years on end? Haven't I earned the right to be a little picky?"

He looked around the table, as everyone shook their heads at him, solemnly. Sophia struggled to keep a straight face, shoulders shaking a bit as she tried not to laugh.

"I didn't sacrifice enough to get back home to you guys?"

"Nope," replied Beck, conversationally, passing Mark an order of French fries. "Try some!" He grinned at Mark.

"You can go fu-" Mark caught himself just in time, with a half-smirk. He sighed. "Oh, fine! Whatever! If it'll get you guys off my back. Who's got the ketchup?"

Ana passed it to him, smiling sweetly, as he stuck his tongue out at her.

Mark made a big production out of pinching his nose shut as he took a bite.

"Yep. Tastes like potatoes," he confirmed, looking nauseated.

Sophia had her communicator out; to document this, Mark's first encounter with potatoes in ten years or so.

He mugged for the camera dramatically, gagging and making choking noises. He paused, mid-bite, claiming that he was being tortured in violation of the Geneva Convention.

It was a viral sensation within hours.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning they were loading the van, listening to the strains of another chorus of "Okefenokee!" as Beth and Sophia verified and re-verified that nobody needed to go to the bathroom, when Mark noticed that the angles on the rental vehicle seemed a little bit off.

Flat tire.

"Just call the rental company," suggested Chris. "They can come fix it, or hook us up with another one."

"There's a spare," Mark replied evenly, sliding into his role as the ship's engineer without even realizing that he was doing it. "Let's just fix it and be on our way."

"Mister Fix-It," joked Beth.

"Call the rental company and let them deal with it," Sophia offered.

"It's not Mars, pal. No bonus points for fixing it yourself," Beck joked, rolling his eyes as Mark searched for the jack.

"Nah," Mark grunted, as he started on the lug nuts, "This'll just take a minute."

"Dad, can we go swimming?" Val asked.

"What? No!" Beck answered, absentmindedly, watching his friend strain uselessly against the bolts. "Here, let me try."

"Think I'm going to get a cup of coffee," said Beth, turning back towards the motel. "Or three," she added, under her breath.

"Sounds good to me," Sophia smirked at Beth, knowing that there would be no dragging the guys away from their impromptu car repair.

"Ow! Fuck!" shouted Mark, clutching his hand.

* * *

One hour and twenty minutes later, it was duly determined that Earth Rover's spare tire was also flat. All repair attempts were scrubbed, and Mark and Chris had summoned the rental company to mount a rescue mission.

"We've been waiting for  _hours_ ," complained Valya. "Can't we go swimming? It's so hot," she said, drawing out the last word until she sounded like she had a Southern drawl, too.

It  _was_  hot. Humid, too. Mid-summer in South Georgia was pretty miserable.

"Oh, fine. Whatever," conceded Beck. "They'll probably be awhile yet, with the new van." It was looking more and more likely that they'd be staying at the motel an extra day anyway, at this point.

Sophia and Beth were digging through suitcases for swimsuits and towels and sunblock, when Ana asked, "Where's Mark?"

Little Mark was nowhere to be seen. The six of them looked around, blankly.

Ten minutes later, after a thorough search of the parking lot, pool area, and lobby, Mark was on the verge of calling the police. Panic was setting in.

"Hey, look what I found!" called little Mark, appearing from the edge of the forested area next to the parking lot, holding something. "A rock!"

Sophia breathed a deep sigh of relief and irritation, and ran towards him a few paces. She grabbed him, with an equal mind towards hugging him and wringing his neck.

"You scared us to death!" she scolded him. Little Mark pointed over her shoulder at something, but she continued on, heedless, "Nobody knew where you were! We were just about to-"

"Mom." He pointed behind her again.

"We were just about to call the police!" she continued, glancing behind her, dropping him abruptly and trying not to scream. Her husband was laying face-down in the gravel.

Beck had snapped into doctor mode. He knelt next to Mark, cool under pressure as always. .

"I scared Daddy to death," said little Mark, starting to cry.

"No, no. He'll be fine," Beth hugged him tight, partly to reassure him, and partly to keep him out of the way.

Mark had heart problems, of course. But it was easy to forget, because he'd taken care to stay as healthy as possible. And it didn't happen too often, but a sudden shock or stressful situation had the ability to cause an "unscheduled nap" as he called it.

His eyes were open now, and seeing how scared his son was, he tried to rally quickly. Chris helped him to sit up, and he was just brushing the gravel from his face, making a joke about being willing to try new things, when the rental company truck pulled into the lot.

* * *

Sophia was thinking how grateful she was that Chris and Beth had been there, even though she knew that Mark hated being confronted with proof that he wasn't infallible. Especially in front of his former crewmates.

"I'm sorry, Dad," apologized little Mark. The two Marks shared the center row of seats as Beth took a turn in the driver's seat.

Mark didn't answer right away, but he responded by slinging one arm around his son and pulling him close. He kissed him on the top of his head, as little Mark snuggled in.

Sophia smiled to see the two of them together, so alike. Despite the noise and daylight, after all of the excitement, she wasn't surprised at all, a little while later, when she noticed that both of them had fallen asleep, slumped together.

She couldn't resist taking a few pictures.

* * *

"Mommy? Gramps really named you after a town?" Her son pointed to the sign on Interstate 77.

"Well," Sophia considered for a moment. "Sort of. The town and I were named after the same person. One of your ancestors. From the 1800s."

"Is she dead?" asked Ana.

Mark and Chris snickered.

"As far as I know," Sophia smirked. "Just like the town."

"How much further is it, Aunt Sophia?" asked Val.

"Maybe another hour or so," she answered.

"I have to go to the bathroom." Val announced.

* * *

"Grammy!"

Little Mark had already burst out of the van to hug Madison.

"Are you having a good vacation, Banks?" She hugged him tight. "Good to see my favorite grandson."

"Aw, Gram!" He sighed. "Can't you call me Mark? Nobody's called me Banks since I was a baby, practically. Also, I'm your  _only_  grandson." His pout broke into a irrepressible half-grin.

"I'm sorry, honey," she patted him on the shoulder. "I'll try to remember," she promised.

"Good to see you again, Mrs. Roberts," Chris greeted the former First Lady rather formally. It tended to be a hard habit to break.

"Please call me Maddie," she said, smiling. Beth went to shake hands with her, and got swept into a hug, instead.

"And these are our girls," Chris put a hand on each shoulder.

"Valentina. I remember you," she smiled at Val. "You've gotten so big since the wedding! And who's this?"

Ana, suddenly shy, darted behind Chris.

"Where's Grampy?" asked little Mark, suddenly.

"Well, you all are getting in a little later than we expected. Perry's already gone down to feed the stock."

He perked up at that, and poked Ana, saying, "Horses!" in a stage-whisper.

Ana's eyes went wide. She looked at Maddie for confirmation.

"Uh-oh," said Chris.

* * *

Of course, nothing else would do, except for everyone to drop their luggage, and head down the south hill to the stable.

It was nearly dinner time by then, and it seemed a little bit unusual to encounter a former President mucking stalls, but the kids had fun petting the horses and giving them treats, as Perry introduced his new constituency, saving his favorite one for last.

"This is Patch," he said, as he patted the tall paint horse in one of the corner stalls. The nameplate identified him as Chief Apache Whisperwind, but despite his dignified name, Patch was obviously a total clown of a horse.

Perry played to the crowd, telling Patch in a loud, deliberate voice,

"Patch, I want you to meet my friends Ana and Val. They voted  _democrat_ in the last election."

Patch shook his head at them, sadly, as Perry offered him a piece of carrot.

"Can we ride him?" asked Ana, patting his nose, while perched on a hay bale.

"Well, Patch here isn't really used to little kids riding him, but maybe a couple of our smaller horses could take you all for a ride tomorrow, in the morning?"

Ana and little Mark nodded eagerly.

* * *

They were eating a late dinner in the Robert's cavernous French Provincial kitchen, when Ana returned to the table from a trip to the bathroom.

She giggled and whispered something to Val.

Mark watched them, smirking. He looked at Perry, who was trying valiantly to keep a straight face.

Valya excused herself and a few moments later, snorts of laughter were heard issuing from the bathroom.

Madison gave a long-suffering sigh, as she rolled her eyes at Perry.

"Perry.  _Please_ let me redecorate that bathroom. It's really not funny anymore-"

Mark had to disagree with her.

" _I_  thought it was pretty funny."

Perry extended him a fist bump.

Val returned from the bathroom and sat back in her chair, still giggling.

"What's so funny?" asked Chris.

Val glanced at Mark, who obviously knew why she was laughing, and then at her hosts, and then back to her dad. Clearly she was torn between wanting to tell, and being unsure if a discussion about the unusual bathroom decor was an acceptable topic of conversation for the dinner table.

"The toilet is made out of money!" squeaked out Ana, across the table, breaking into giggles again.

Sophia rolled her eyes at her father.

"It was your great-grandfather's idea of a joke," she explained to little Mark in an aside. "Senator Kennedy blocked his finance bill, and Grandpa wound up losing the election. He had a toilet seat set with Kennedy silver dollars, so that he could take a dump on it, whenever he wanted to."

"Except that's not quite the language that Dad used," added Perry, grinning.

Chris snorted, and shoved his chair back to go have a look.

* * *

**Do not use this fireplace.**

**It will smoke you like a bee.**

**~Edgar L. Roberts~**

Mark estimated that note to be over sixty years old, judging by how yellowed and faded it was, tacked onto the mantelpiece, and also by its author having been dead for about that long.

It was also highly unlikely that a chimney at the Robert's house had gone unrepaired for that long. They probably just kept the note around out of some weird, senatorial misguided humor.

Perry had, once again, merrily slaughtered Mark at Scrabble, their traditional late-night board game, but Chris had stepped up and avenged him, laying down crazy words like QUOKKA and JIVY, sending Perry running straight for the nearest dictionary. Two lost challenges later, Perry put the board away, shaking his head, as Mark and Chris toasted him with his own single-malt scotch.

Sophia's girlhood room had been assigned to Ana and Val, for the purposes of this visit. Chris and Beth were occupying Uncle Gerald's sunny corner room, and little Mark had the small west gable room.

That left old Edgar's room for Mark and Sophia. It was, allegedly, haunted.

By whom or what, the record was silent.

"Hey, Sophia?" he asked.

"Hmm?" She was getting ready for bed. Even after ten years together, he couldn't resist  _that_

show. Focus, he told himself.

"Is this note for real? That chimney isn't still broken, is it?

"No idea," Sophia shrugged.

"I mean, that guy's been dead for eons, right?"

She nodded, absentmindedly, brushing her hair. It was still long, halfway down her back, even if it did have a few threads of silver now; she was still a knockout. She'd derailed his train of thought again.

Who cares about some dead senator from a hundred years ago, he thought. Sophia was reaching up, on tiptoe, to hang their garment bag on the closet door. Still a hell of a nice view, he thought, reminded of the first time he'd ever asked her out.

She'd caught him checking her out that time, and she caught him this time, too, turning around to glance at him, smirking.

"You never quit, do you?"

"That's what  _she_ said." He turned to turn back the covers, and patted the sheets, grinning at her.

"Oh my god,  _that_ line?" Sophia laughed. "Seriously?"


	4. Chapter 4

A few days in Morgantown was plenty, Mark mused, as they packed up the van to leave for Annapolis.

They'd left that morning, amidst promises that Madison and Perry would come visit them in Roadtown during the winter. It wasn't going to be a terribly long drive, today; just four or five hours, probably. It was getting to be a strange road trip, Mark mused, when the promise of staying in a cold, impersonal, hotel room sounded fantastic, in contrast to the dusty, haunted guest room at Sophia's parent's house, complete with notes from dead guys.

"Mom!" whined Valya, "Ana won't leave me alone!"

Mark sighed. Chris was currently driving, and the two girls were occupying the back row of the van.

And Beth was, to put it lightly, rather _laissez-faire_ in the parenting department. He didn't like to judge, of course, everyone had their own ways. Oh, who was he kidding? He was totally judging. But it still made him grit his teeth when the two little girls got going with their backseat squabbling.

None of them had slept very well last night; Perry had encouraged everyone to stay up late on the last night of their visit, permissively letting the kids eat way too much junk food. The adults had enjoyed a few bottles of wine. Everyone was, unsurprisingly, grouchy and out-of-sorts after a couple of hours on the road.

"Mom!" shouted Ana, even louder, "Val keeps making that _face_ at me!"

Beth shrugged and rolled her eyes.

Mark glanced down at his son, smiling a bit to see him looking out the window, quietly. At least _his_ son knew how to behave himself. Though he _had_ been unusually quiet this morning, come to think of it.

"She's on _my side_ ," screeched Val. "Stay on your own side, Ana!"

"She keeps touching me," Ana squealed.

Oh god, he thought. Why doesn't she make them shut the fuck up? Where's the duct tape when you need it?

"Stop pushing me!"

"Leave me alone!"

His son turned to look at him, suddenly. Oh shit, he thought, seeing what was about to happen. Little Mark had a panicky expression.

"Pull over!" he shouted at Chris, who reacted, surprised, by swerving a bit.

I am so fucked, Mark thought.

Chris glanced in the rearview at them, just in time to see little Mark throw up.

Mark sat there in shock, for a moment, drenched in warm vomit.

* * *

"Well, that set us back about an hour," Beck estimated, checking the GPS.

"We should still be there in plenty of time," said Sophia, glancing down at little Mark, who was almost asleep, with his head in her lap.

"Not soon enough," groused Mark. A change of clothes and a wipe-down with wet naps at a gas station did not equate to a proper shower.

Ana and Val were mercifully quiet, in the back seat, engrossed in their travel-sized magnetic Monopoly game.

"Are we _there_ yet?" joked Beth, as Mark and Sophia turned to glare at her.

* * *

"Oh no, let me get that," the lobby manager practically snatched the garment bag out of Mark's hand. "We'll deliver it all to your rooms," he said. "They'll be ready in just a little while, if you would like to wait in the lounge?"

Mark shrugged.

"Fine with me," he said, following him.

No sooner than they'd all sat down, there was a hand clapped on Mark's sleeve, and he spun around, suddenly.

"Good to see you!" Victor Vogel greeted him.

"Vick!" he burst out, stunned. "Good to see you, too!"

Beth hugged him, and Mark and Chris shook his hand.

Victor grinned shyly, as he gestured to a young woman standing next to him.

"This is Nele, my wife," he introduced her, with barely a trace of an accent, in that amazed, proud fashion that Mark associated with most newlyweds.

"What?! You're _married_? Does Alex know about this?" Mark joked. He'd heard that Victor had gotten married, of course, but he hadn't gone over for the wedding, last year. He hadn't seen Victor, in person, for quite a few years.

Victor nodded, laughing. He'd always had a strong resemblance to his father, but Mark was momentarily taken aback at how much Vick looked like Alex had, when they'd first met, now that Victor had reached adulthood. They shared the same height, the same broad shoulders, and now, the same certain lack of hair follicles was beginning to catch up with Victor, as well.

"Eliza is travelling with my parents," he volunteered, before anyone was compelled to ask the next two obvious questions. "They arrived last night. Different hotel."

Mark nodded, as he shook hands with Nele.

"Nice to meet you, finally," he smiled at her.

"Poor Nele," Sophia shook her hand, with a sympathetic look, "You're going to have a lot of new faces to remember!"

Nele shook her head, smiling. "Of course I know the crew of Ares III," she laughed. The _who doesn't_? part went unspoken.

* * *

"No." his son shook his head, stubbornly, as Mark tried in vain to reason with him, the next day.

"You have plenty of stuffed animals at home. Just pick one, so that we can leave already," he repeated, there in the Smithsonian gift shop.

Sophia, a couple of aisles away, had a knowing smirk as she looked the other way. She was not getting involved, here. He was on his own.

His son was, generally, a pretty reasonable kid. But damn it, every once in awhile, he was as stubborn as a little mule. Mark had no idea where his son had gotten _that_ particular trait. He must take after Sophia's side of the family, he thought. And with the unerring instinct that right now would be a terrible time to make a scene, he had declined Mark's (totally generous, he thought!) offer of _one_ small souvenir stuffed animal.

Little Mark stood firm, clutching at least five.

"Please, Daddy?" He'd switched tactics again, and was giving his dad the most charming half-grin he could muster, the one that Mark himself had usually saved for when he was trying to score with cute girls, in his younger years.

He laughed, in spite of himself, but stood his ground.

"Sorry," he grinned back. "Nice try. Pick one. How about just the panda?"

His son dug in his heels again.

"All." He hugged the armload of plush again. "Please?" His eyes, so much like Sophia's, looked up at him, pleading. It was a good tactic, Mark could see that he was fighting a losing battle.

"Two?" He attempted to negotiate, but even to his own ears it sounded weak.

"All." His son smiled, sensing imminent victory.

"Three?" He tried once more, to cull the herd a bit. "Your room at home is really small, and…"

"Please, Daddy?"

"Okay," He gave in gracefully, seeing how happy it made his son. "Don't tell your Mom," he added, knowing that she could hear him, when he saw her smile.

He ruffled little Mark's hair.

The entire Ares III crew was on hand, the following day, for the official unveiling of the brand new SSN-774-class submarine. Originally, the sub, one of the final _Virginia_ -class vessels to be produced, was to have been christened _Melissa Lewis_ , but Lewis herself had nixed that notion. Instead, she'd asked for permission to suggest an alternate name herself, and the powers that be had readily agreed.

"Man, I'd totally be down with a nuclear-powered submarine named after _me,_ I don't know what her problem is," grinned Rick, nudging Mark.

Sitting a few rows back, in the crowd, Marissa caught his eye, and Rick made a quick wave at his family. His son, David, almost a teenager now, grinned back, and his twin daughters, Maristella and Marisol, waved back at him, smiling.

The ship, nameplate covered by a shroud of silver fabric, was moored nearby; her future captain standing on the podium to greet Commander Lewis. Mark had seen Lewis in Naval uniform plenty of times during training, of course, but this was the first time he'd ever seen her in ceremonial dress whites.

She looked much more relaxed these days, even so, as she accepted the honor of a submarine commissioned in her name.

An enormous magnum of champagne was smashed against the hull, and the name was revealed to be _Discovery_ , as the crowd applauded.

"Bet you five bucks she named it that so that people will have to call it _Disco_ , for short," Mark muttered.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Disco. _Very_."

* * *

The informal celebration that evening was the first time in ages that the entire crew and their families had been together, in person, as Melissa and Mark chatted together on the back porch of her Annapolis home.

One of Melissa and Robert's dogs, Daisy, dropped a tennis ball in front of Mark, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Chuckling, Mark obligingly picked it up and threw it for her, as Melissa smirked.

A few moments later, all three Golden Retrievers were sitting expectantly in front of him, tails wagging eagerly, waiting for the next throw.

"Now you've gone and done it," Melissa laughed at his expression. "I hope you weren't planning on doing anything else this evening. Your next schedule block has been officially claimed."

Mark grinned, as he threw the ball again, the dogs all happily bounding away after it. Bo was the winner this time, and deposited the ball in Mark's lap and claimed his victory head rub. Luke and Daisy eyed the ball very intently, as Mark poised to throw it again.

"Time to bring out the secret weapon," he joked. Melissa raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Mark, c'mere," he called to his son.

* * *

"I've actually never seen them this exhausted," Robert patted the sleepy Bo, next to him, who yawned and stretched out by his master's feet, half-asleep already. Much to everyone's amusement, Robert had trained the dogs to respond to their individual names, and to respond collectively when he called, "Dukes!"

"Who are these tiny humans, and what have they done to my dogs?" asked Melissa, with a mock-accusatory tone, as she rubbed Daisy's head.

Mark grinned, watching the merry little band of kids, still full of energy, playing in the Lewis' backyard as the fireflies began to blink occasionally, from the shrubs. Six little ones; they were almost like another Ares III crew, in miniature. There was no doubt that they considered each other family just as their parents did, as little Val bossed the lot of them around. No doubt who the commander of _that_ crew would be, Mark thought.

Tomorrow they would turn in the rental and catch their flights home.

It had been quite the experience, this little road trip reunion.

"Have a good flight, man." Rick clapped him on the shoulder, "Do your pilot a favor, and try not to get left behind this time?"

Mark grinned.

"Be careful on the drive home; watch that speed limit," he replied, sardonically, bending down to hug little Marisol. "And what do we tell Daddy when he's driving?"

" _No barrel rolls_!" the twins chorused, as the rest of the group laughed. Rick rolled his eyes.

Mark shouldn't have been surprised, but he totally was, anyway, when his son suddenly appeared, holding the bag from the Smithsonian, and presented each of the four little girls with one of the stuffed animals.

* * *

"Dad," his son asked him, the next evening as he was, finally, snuggling down to go to sleep in his very own bed, "what was your favorite part of the trip, and what was the worst?"

Mark thought about that for a moment, as he tucked his son in.

"I can tell you what was the worst," offered Sophia, from the hallway, where she stood, unpacking suitcases and loading up the washer. "All this laundry."

Mark grinned. He couldn't argue with that.

"Was it when I barfed on you?" asked little Mark, grinning. "That was the worst, right?"

He couldn't argue with that, either.

"Well," he paused, thinking of the many long journeys he'd taken, since that long ago day at Cape Canaveral with the Ares III crew. "I guess you could say that I've done a fair bit of travelling in my time," he began.

"Understatement of the century," quipped Sophia.

"And the best part of the journey is always coming back home."

Mark kissed his son goodnight.

"It _is_ good to be home," little Mark agreed, sleepily.

And home to me, is wherever you are, he added, silently.


End file.
